


Kiss Me

by Ureances



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Sex, The Beatles - Freeform, bottom!John, hairpulling, idk what im doing, john doesnt want to practice, john is a masochist, mimi isnt home, paul is strangely dom, slightly kinky, they almost fuck against the wall, top!paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ureances/pseuds/Ureances
Summary: Mimi is gone for a trip, and when John and Paul meet at John's house for practice, things don't go quite as planned.





	Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> This contains sexual content between two men, John and Paul of The Beatles. If you don't like it, don't read it. Comments and kudos are appreciated!

For what was probably the eleventh time that evening, Paul found himself swatting at meddling hands. John had taken it upon himself to poke and prod at his friend's guitar every few minutes. Really, he couldn't help himself-- Paul looked so cute when he was angry, his eyebrows kitted together and his cheeks coloring.  
“This is your last warning. Try it again, and I'll flatten you,” Paul grumbled, snatching his guitar out of John's reach. “You have your own guitar.” John smirked and was glared at in response. For the past few hours, Paul had been attempting to teach him a song he had written, but John simply wasn't having it today.  
“Give it a rest, luv, you know how stir crazy I can get when Mimi isn't around. Let's do something else. All we do is practice.”  
“We could have been doing something else by now if you'd been payin' attention. It's not a hard piece, John, really.” Paul's expression had softened, and in all honesty, his fingers burned and he just wanted John to get the piece down so he could relax. Luckily, the two actually progressed a bit after that, but it wasn't long before John had reached over to twist one of the tuning knobs on Paul's guitar. The thunderous look that crossed across Paul's features was enough to get John slightly frightened and incredibly excited. In half a second, the guitar had been tossed haphazardly onto John's bed and the prettier of the two was standing, hands balled into fists. John stood to meet him, squaring up his shoulders and trying his hardest to look intimidating.  
“Relax, Macca, it won't be hard to tune it again,” Lennon said in a defensive tone. He began to wonder if he'd crossed some line when Paul's features only darkened more.  
“I don't give a damn about the tuning, you bloody nit,” with both men standing in the already too-small room, it seemed they were only a centimeter apart. John decided to step over the line, and shoved his companion with a small, shit eating grin. The younger of the two finally snapped and roughly pushed John into the door. It swung open and he fell through, landing heavily on his ass in the hall. The sudden, sharp pain raced up John's spine and he gasped in shock. He did not want to admit that this whole situation was a huge turn on for him.  
Paul was standing over him again in an instant, taking a handful of John's collar and yanking him to his feet. John took a quick opportunity and turned the tides, and they ended up against the wall, with John's hands on either side of Paul's head and Paul's breath hot on his face. Without all the banging about, a sudden silence enveloped them, and the moment gave them a chance to realize what exactly was going on. John smirked at the look of a wide-eyed Paul McCartney, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly, regardless of having plenty of time now to catch his breath. He was so distracted by Paul's disheveled appearance that he barely resisted when Paul flipped them so that it was John who was pinned against the wall. When John's smirk didn't relent, Paul pressed against him harder to seem more aggressive, but quickly stopped in his tracks when he felt the tell-tale sign that John was enjoying this much, much more than he was letting on.  
When Paul's breath hitched, John took a chance and ground his hips against his, knowing that Paul must be enjoying this to some extent, too, since he could feel his dick against his hip.  
“Don't try me, Lennon,” Paul said, face flushing.  
“Oh, I'll try you all I want, son,” and in half a second Paul had turned him around and pressed him against the wall, rolling his hips against John's ass. John couldn't hold back the sound that escaped his lips, face going red.  
“Who says you get to fuck me?” John said breathlessly. Yes, he would pretend that he hadn't been drooling at the thought of Paul's dick satisfying him, but he had to play a bit hard to get. Paul shocked him by lowering his voice to practically a rumble and pulling John's head back with a hand in his hair, only to murmur,  
“I do.”

As appealing as it sounded to get fucked against the wall, Paul ended up ushering them back into John's tiny bedroom, mumbling about how it would be a nightmare to be seen through a window or something.  
“You ever fucked a bloke before?” John asked nonchalantly, watching Paul's face twist into embarrassment. He took that as a no, and immediately sucked two of his own fingers into his mouth, unbuttoning his fly with his other hand. After struggling with it for a bit, Paul swatted his hands away and did it himself, yanking his pants and underwear away, loving the way John's eyes went wide at this. Seeing him like that, all wide brown eyes and pink lips wrapped around guitarist fingers, he's surprised he didn't come right then and there. “So, are you gonna kiss me? Or are you just gonna watch?” John said as he lowered his hand, and after pretending to ponder a bit, Paul smirked.  
“I think I will watch,” John's surprise never ceased to amuse him. Though he didn't particularly fancy watching his best friend and band mate finger himself, he enjoyed watching John's expressive face. John, meanwhile, hadn't expected Paul to deny kissing him. As hot as it was that Paul wanted to watch, John began to worry that maybe his friend just didn't want to kiss him. He tried not to let this dishearten him too much, and distracted himself by pressing a finger into himself and only adjusting for a moment before adding the other. He was familiar with his own body and had done this to himself on multiple occasions, but it was never as good as when someone else was doing it, because he couldn't quite reach his own prostate. He maintained eye-contact with Paul this entire time, loving how occasionally Paul would flush and look away, before quickly looking back. It was odd but endearing how Paul could go to pulling his hair and pushing him against a wall to sitting here watching him with an amazed and aroused expression.  
“Do you have any Vaseline? Or anything?” Paul asked, glancing away from John and looking at his guitar, which had ended up on the floor.  
“No. I can just suck your cock,” John said sitting up and removing his fingers, unconsciously wiping them onto his sheets as he watched Paul's expression.  
“I'd like that very much,” Paul said, and John wasted no time, sitting up and yanking at Paul's clothes. He felt empty and stretched, but knew that it would only be for a short while before he would be filled again, this time with Paul's cock. When the shirt came off, it was all in time. John was struck by just how beautiful Paul was, and couldn't help but lean forward to nip at the beautiful man's collarbones. He toyed with his chest, licking his skin, biting it, as his hands fumbled blindly at Paul's belt buckle. Once it was undone, he quickly moved on from his chest and kissed his way down, tugging down Paul's pants as he went. When he got to the waistband of his underwear, he pulled them down with his teeth, all the way off, and then kissed and bit his way back up Paul's leg. He looked up at the beautiful man's face once again, as if asking permission. When Paul only blinked at him in impatience, John took the head of his cock into his mouth. He knew it didn't have to be great head, since it was only really meant to substitute lube, but he still wanted it to feel good. He dipped his tongue against the slit, looking up at Paul to find him gazing back with his lips slightly parted. Paul almost felt like he could lose it right there, with John looking up at him. He had to strain to keep from bucking into John's soft mouth, and let John lower himself (with surprising ease) at his own rate.  
The whole ordeal ended much sooner than either men would have liked, but Paul wasted no time pushing John back down and guiding him onto his hands and knees. He kneaded at John's ass as he leaned down and bit a mark next to his shoulder blade.  
“You're sure that you're ready?” his voice was husky and low, and it sent shivers down John's spine.  
“Oh god, yes, yes, I've been ready since we started.” and with that, Paul lined up his cock and pushed in, slowly, feeling the way that John tensed and relaxed around him, again and again, a flawless pattern. “Just fuck me, please,” John said in a whine, and Paul pushed the rest of the way in, groaning at the way the tight heat gripped at him, all the while reminding himself that he wasn't gay, and he was into women, but he eventually lost that train of thought and began fucking into John, who was pushing his hips back against Paul's every time Paul came forward. Not gay, he reminded himself again. Just John.

Eventually, he had threaded a hand in John's hair, and he tugged it sharply as he fucked John. John, who was loving every second of it, practically begging with every thrust. The sharp pinpricks on his scalp shot pleasure straight down to his dick and he banished the flickering thought that he could probably come from having his hair pulled.  
“I never imagined,” said between pants and groans. “That my tactic to get in your pants would work as well as it did,” and the grip in his hair instantly slackened.  
“You bleeding cunt,” Paul said, and snickered at the whine emitted from John's throat as he pulled out and roughly flipped John over. “You were fucking with my guitar to get into my pants?” John's response was little more than a sharp moan as Paul entered him again from this new angle. John's legs were wrapped around Paul's waist, his nails raking down Paul's thighs. The new way they were positioned had Paul's dick pushing up against or near John's spot with every stroke, and his back arched off of the bed in sheer pleasure, words falling from his lips with no warning.  
“Fuck, fuck, yes, Macca, I've wanted this for.. so fucking long. Yes, yes, I'm close,” His rambling went nearly unnoticed by his band mate, who was lost in his own world of pleasure.  
“Kiss me,” Paul said suddenly, and John did.

John came first, untouched, his climax an explosion of white hot pleasure that washed from his head to the tips of his toes. Paul followed quickly from the tightening of John's muscles.  
John had been shocked, after the fact, that Paul had wanted to kiss him, when he so obviously didn't want to before. He thought this to himself as Paul lay against him. He had fallen asleep almost immediately after, whereas John had lay awake thinking of the last hour or so. They had messed around before, but nothing like this. Maybe Paul was uncomfortable with the idea of being queer. Who knew? John decided that they could talk about in the morning. After all, Mimi wouldn't be home for another day or so, and he couldn't imagine sleeping without Paul's arms around him after that.

**Author's Note:**

> I might add more chapters to this some day, but don't count on it.


End file.
